


Eve (Or, Anticipation)

by nevthebunny



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Christmas Eve, First Love, Friendship, M/M, Marauders' Era, New Year's Eve, Snapshots, other assorted eves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:02:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9003094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevthebunny/pseuds/nevthebunny
Summary: Eve: the evening or the day before a holiday, church festival, or any date or event: Christmas Eve; the eve of an execution. A night of anticipation.Remus spends several eves with Sirius Black.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Oh wow, this fic is my first published in almost four years! It's also my first on this site and my first Wolfstar. Many thanks to my lovely betas for giving me their blessing to publish. Happy Holidays to you all and enjoy!  
> Bold is taken from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

**Eve:** the evening or the day before a holiday, church festival, or any date or event: Christmas  **Eve** ; the  **eve**  of an execution.

I. August 31st 1975

                It has been a long summer, alone with his parents. Two transformations, the latest as recently as ten days ago, three weeks until the next. He’d been waiting for it to end but now Sirius is here. Sirius is here and it should be a good thing. 

                Remus loves Sirius, but maybe that’s the problem. 

                “Alright, Moony?” James Potter slings a careless arm over Remus’s shoulders and shares an infectious grin.

                They’re in James’s back garden: James, Euphemia and Fleamont, Remus and Peter and their mums, and Sirius. There’s lots to celebrate. They’re going back to Hogwarts tomorrow where James has made Quidditch captain and Remus will be a prefect. Him, a _prefect._ Sirius is obnoxiously pretending to be a proud father but Remus knows what he’s celebrating. Another summer gone means only one year before Sirius can leave his family for good.

                Remus hasn’t responded to James outside of a small smile but James Potter is not so easily gotten rid of. Usually, it’s something Remus likes about him. Right now, though, he’s being dragged back to the middle of the party and there, underneath a loud gold banner proclaiming ‘Congratulations Remus and James’ in a colour that was probably meant to be red but has faded to pink, stands another fifteen year old boy. His painstakingly styled black hair falls in waves over his eyes- he must be growing it out again after cutting it in a rage a few months before. He wears an old leather jacket over silver dress robes, a combination which really shouldn’t work but only serves to accentuate his wild grey eyes and elegant figure.

                The smoulder he doesn’t know he’s giving off raises into a glowing grin as Sirius spots Remus.

                “Been avoiding me, Moony?” Sirius quips.

                “N-no, of course not,” Remus stutters in return. “Why would I...”

                Sirius isn’t listening.  His eyes are widening in excitement as he moves on to the next thing. He’s a fast person, Sirius Black.

                “Wait! You’ve not been round this summer, have you?”

                Remus shakes his head, which only makes Sirius grin wider.

                “James!” he hollers. “I’m taking him...” He points upwards. James rolls his eyes, shooting a thumbs up at Sirius and a knowing look at Remus.

                “You’re coming with me,” Sirius instructs. He doesn’t wait for a response before grabbing Remus’s wrist and dragging him after him.

                Up turns out to be James’s new treehouse. It’s amazing- spacious, full of Quidditch memorabilia and clearly held up entirely by magic. Sirius pushes the more cautious Remus towards the window. The village sits directly beneath them but the view extends across the pink-tinted fields as the sun sets. It is breathtaking.

                Remus exhales.

                “Thought you’d like it,” grins Sirius smugly.

                Remus doesn’t know how long they stand there like that as he watches the night and Sirius, a step behind, watches him.

                As he watches the last traces of light fade, Sirius says, “There goes summer.”

                Remus turns to face him. He looks softer in the dark, hair mussed now, cheeks pink from the cold.

                “Not yet. I wish it were tomorrow already,” Remus sighs.

                Sirius sinks into a beanbag, rolling his eyes. He pats the tiny space beside him and Remus sits obligingly.

                “Honestly, Remus, dearest,” Sirius begins. “And miss out on Hogwarts eve?”

                “That’s not a thing,” Remus dismisses.

                Yet Sirius isn’t teasing. “Not a thing? The night before, when all the pieces fall into place? Tell me you don’t love that feeling of anticipation, knowing that tomorrow is bound to bring something better, something new?”

                As he sits, breathing in Sirius, feeling the heat radiating from the arm next to him, sitting quietly in the dark treehouse, Remus thinks he might understand what he means.

II. March 9th 1977

                Sirius is here. The dormitory where Remus is seeking sanctuary from the rowdy Gryffindor Quidditch Team party raging downstairs has instead become a danger zone. This is the first time Sirius has got him alone since Remus stopped talking to him two months, five days and thirteen hours ago.

                His hangings are closed but Sirius knows he’s here. Remus hears him sink onto his own bed, two metres away. He hears Sirius’s boots hitting the floor, then no more movements.

                Sirius must be sitting on his bed, staring at Remus’s closed hangings but Remus will not give him the satisfaction of being the first to budge.

                “Remus,” the quiet, sorrowful voice breaks through the silence. It doesn’t sound much like Sirius- too rough, too emotional.

                “Look, Remus, I understand that you’re still angry with me and you have every right to be. I’m still angry with myself. I don’t want you to forgive me. I don’t think you should forgive me but I want you to know I’m sorry. And I miss you. And tomorrow’s your birthday and I want to be able to wish you Happy Birthday and enchant your textbooks to sing stupid birthday songs whenever you try to read them and watch you smile even though you’re pretending to be mad at me.”

                Sirius pauses. “You’re good at pretending to be mad at me. Could you pretend not to be for one day?”

                Remus is angry at Sirius. Remus hates Sirius, except he doesn’t really. He doesn’t think he ever could even though what Sirius did was so careless. He could have killed people. He could’ve made Remus kill people and have to live with that.

                _But you didn’t._ A little voice in Remus’s head argues.

 _Only thanks to James_ another pipes up.

                _But he’s sorry_.

                Sirius sighs, taking his silence as a no. “I get it. I’m sorry, Remus. Happy Birthday, I love you.”

                Sirius is sliding into bed now, his hangings scraping along the pole.

                Remus pulls his own hangings open, just a crack.

                He used to do this on days after full moons, when he was too tired and sore to face the world. He’d open the hangings just enough for Sirius to slide in and they’d lie there together. Sirius wouldn’t talk, he’d just hold Remus until he felt well enough to get up.

                Remus hasn’t gotten out of bed at all the last two days after.

                Sirius’s face appears in the gap, tentative, a look Remus has never seen on him.

                Before he can overthink it, Remus grabs his hand and pulls him in. He fits so well against Remus’s chest and something inside him finally relaxes.

                They lie there together. Sirius doesn’t talk, just holds him, and Remus finally feels like tomorrow things might actually get better.

III. December 31st 1980

                Sirius is here. Remus knows that because he is currently secreted under Remus’s arm, trying determinedly to be short enough to fit properly.

                It is still wartime but they’re adults now, twenty and twenty one years old, and they fight. Mostly the Death Eaters, but also sometimes each other. James and Lily are in hiding and that puts rather more pressure on their always delicate relationship than perhaps it should. People have always seen Remus as the mediator but that’s never been the case. There’s never been any conflict between James, Sirius and Peter; Remus is the contrary one.

                There’s a spy in the ranks, though, and it isn’t Remus. He knows sometimes Sirius wonders if it is. Remus can’t blame him. No amount of love can change the fact of his lycanthropy.  He’s doubted Sirius too, once or twice, for fleeting moments. It definitely isn’t Sirius, though. He’s a Black but a disgraced one. He wasn’t even in contact with his father when he died, didn’t find out about his brother’s death until the papers did. It hasn’t exactly been a great year all around.

                Yet Sirius is here now and they’re happy. There’s a little gathering of the Order, put together by the Prewetts and for such a small group they can be impressively raucous. The twins’ sister is here with her husband and brood of children. Marlene McKinnon is flirting with Benjy Fenwick in a corner, probably determined to seduce him into being her midnight kiss and Sirius has had far too much firewhiskey.

                “Reeeemus,” he giggles. “You’re not tall enough!”

                “I’m quite tall enough, thank you,” Remus replies, “You’re just too tall.”

                Drunk Sirius is twice as cocky as Sober Sirius, which is usually more than enough for anyone to deal with but he’s also much more comfortable sharing his every feeling, which Remus finds quite endearing.

                “I wouldn’t be nearly as attractive if I was short. You wouldn’t love me,” Sirius says matter-of-factly.

                Remus slides his arm down Sirius’s back until it sits on his waist and pulls him in closer.

                He looks into those wild grey eyes. “I would,” he murmurs.

                Remus loves Sirius, and that is the only part of his life not causing him any problems.

                Sirius turns serious though. “We’ll do better next year. I’ll love you better,” he proclaims.

                Remus hesitates and picks up his butterbeer, toying with the label. “I’m sure you will,” he says. “To a better year.”

                Sirius just laughs and kisses him.

                Maybe this year wasn’t so bad, Remus thinks.

IV. October 31st 1981

                It’s been a long month since Remus last saw Sirius. He’s tired, frustrated and weary. Finally, this mission is over. He’s been found out at long last and though he’s got a few bites, scratches and hex wounds to attend to, he’s alive and wants nothing more than to go home, have a nice long bath and nap with Sirius on his chest. He can’t, though. He’s isn’t exactly sure where home is anymore as the last time he saw Sirius, he was throwing him out of the flat.

                The argument had been ugly; nine months of tensions and suspicions finally coming to a head. Remus couldn’t give Sirius the details of his delicate mission with the werewolves and he doubts Sirius would have believed him if he had. He knows that Sirius was keeping plenty of things from him too. Nothing had hurt more than the realisation that Sirius was protecting Lily and James from _him_. Sirius thought he might hurt them and maybe Lily and James did too.

                Remus has nowhere else to go, though. The flat’s where all his worldly possessions are, provided Sirius hasn’t set them on fire, which, to be honest, he wouldn’t put past him. He’ll just have to go there and face whatever it is Sirius wants to throw at him.

                He apparates to a dark side alley in Muggle London. Their flat sits over a dingy corner shop. It isn’t exactly the nice part of town but both of them found it preferable to living in a wizarding area. Here, at least, no one asks questions. Even if you turn up after over a month, covered in blood, at 11pm.

                The manager of the shop merely nods at Remus as he’s closing up. Remus nods back and opens the door. Sirius hasn’t changed the locks or put any extra protective spells on it, which marks the first good sign of Remus’s night. He’s also not home.

                Remus ambles into the kitchenette and stops dead at the sight before him. The wireless bleats on; Sirius’s favourite mug lies smashed on the floor, his wallet on the table. Every sign indicates that he left in a hurry.

                Something’s happened and Remus shakes to life but what can he do but wait for Sirius to return?

                _If he returns_ a treacherous voice whispers in his head.

                “And now for the news at 11,” the wireless announces. “Breaking news: wizard styling himself Lord Voldemort is apparently defeated; known Death Eaters flee. More to come as the story develops.”

                Remus sinks into a kitchen chair. An unfamiliar emotion washes over him: is it relief? Hope? Worry? He suddenly feels very tired and very old.

                _I should have that bath_ , he thinks. _I can explain everything when Sirius gets home._

V. June 6th 1994

                **“WE’RE UP HERE! WE’RE UP HERE- SIRIUS BLACK – QUICK!”**

                Sirius is _here_. Remus has hoped, he’s hoped since long before he saw the map, saw the name of a man who should be dead and another who... He’s here and there’s more to the story than a simple betrayal and it’s been almost thirteen years, Remus can’t wait another minute to see that face.

                He blasts the door open, eyes sweep the room. There’s Molly Prewett’s youngest, his leg in a bad way. There’s Hermione Granger, there’s Harry, looking so much like James, except James would never point his wand at Sirius like that or look at him with so much anger.

                Sirius. There’s Sirius. His hair is longer than Remus has ever seen it, matted and unkempt. He looks terrible, like he hasn’t slept or washed for years, teeth yellowed, but in the deep, swollen sockets sit familiar wild grey eyes.

                His only protection is the cat lying across his chest. Sirius looks at Remus and he’s... scared?

                Remus doesn’t have to think before he’s disarming the three teenagers. Sirius is here and so is Peter, which shouldn’t be possible, and the answers Remus has been after for thirteen years are slowly falling into place.

                **“Where is he, Sirius?”**

                Sirius doesn’t move. He stares at Remus, as though he can’t quite believe it and Remus can’t quite believe it either. Then, suddenly, the emotion isn’t fear anymore, it’s hope and Sirius is pointing at the Weasley boy...

                _Of course_. Ron Weasley has a pet rat. Yet it still doesn’t make sense. Sirius was the traitor, he killed Peter... if Peter’s alive, then why...?

                **“But then... why hasn’t he shown himself before now? Unless... unless _he_  was the one... unless you switched... without telling me.”**

                To his credit, Sirius doesn’t look away for a second. He nods, slowly and surely, and Remus’s world changes.

                He lowers his wand and strides forwards, pulling Sirius upright and engulfing him in his arms. He smells of gutter and dustbin and unmistakeable Sirius musk. He’s thin, so much thinner than he should be and he fits underneath Remus’s arms now. Sirius clings back for dear life, the one person who would ever get to close to him.

                Before he can do anything else, before he can say anything else, Hermione interrupts, shouting to high heaven and he has to pull himself away from Sirius to explain a situation he doesn’t fully understand himself to three frightened kids and then there, in Ron’s hands, is Wormtail.

                **“Peter Pettigrew’s dead!”** Harry is yelling. **“ _He_ killed him twelve years ago!”**

                Sirius’s jaw is twitching and it’s amazing to think Remus can still recognise the warning signs. Twelve and a half years in Azkaban cannot change a man’s anger.

                **“I meant to but little Peter got the better of me... not this time though!”**

                And if what Remus believes is true, then he’s one hundred percent behind Sirius in that but Sirius, ever impatient, lunges now, before they’ve had a chance to explain. Remus has to pull him back and misses James with a sudden pang. He’s never had to restrain Sirius alone.

                **“There are parts of it even I don’t understand!”** Remus adds to his list of reasons, almost begging Sirius to explain, to justify himself. **“And Harry,”** Harry, the son of their best friend, who seems almost James reborn, **“You owe Harry the truth, Sirius.”**

                Remus has been avoiding Harry all year, with that untidy black hair it would have been all too easy to remember a time when he was Uncle Moony and Harry wasn’t ready for that. Remus wasn’t ready for that. Now, though, with Sirius here, he needs to talk about it. He needs to get the whole story out. He needs Harry to _know_.

                Then Harry understands and there’s a moment, one beautiful moment, of equilibrium before Snape is pulling the invisibility cloak from his head and threatening Sirius. For the first time, Remus is not enjoying the anticipation. His life is changing tonight but it lies on a knife’s edge and he cannot tell which way it will fall.

                Inexplicably, Harry is on their side and Remus cannot help but see James everywhere in him, except his distrust of Sirius. Harry still believes Sirius killed his parents and whilst Remus still hasn’t quite got the whole story, he cannot believe that anymore. He isn’t sure he ever did.

                **“Harry, don’t you see? All this time we’ve thought Sirius betrayed your parents, and Peter tracked him down- but it was the other way around, don’t you see? _Peter_ betrayed your mother and father – Sirius tracked _Peter_ down.**”

                Ever since Sirius didn’t come home that night, Remus has been wondering where he could have been and now he’s explaining to Harry... but not looking away from Remus and suddenly Remus doesn’t need to hear it from him. He needs to hear it from Peter.

                **“Enough of this. There’s one certain way to prove what really happened. Ron, _give me that rat.”_**

                Once Ron has finally relinquished him, Remus turns to Sirius. His eyes are wet and there’s something else in them. It reminds him of want, the way Sirius’s eyes would get when he wanted Remus. There’s still years of silence, suspicion and sadness between them.

                **“Together?”** Sirius asks quietly.

                _Yes, of course._

                **“I think so.”**

                Then there’s Peter and he _is_ alive and Sirius _is_ innocent and Peter’s asking, **“You don’t believe this... wouldn’t Sirius have told you they’d changed the plan?”**

                There it is. The one thing that’s been haunting Remus for over a decade. What was Sirius not telling him? And _why_? He knows why, though, always has, in his heart of hearts and maybe it’s time they stopped keeping secrets. Maybe it’s time they stopped hesitating.

               **“Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter. I assume that’s why you didn’t tell me, Sirius?”**

               **“Forgive me, Remus,”** says Sirius and it’s deep and sincere. Remus is taken back to a dormitory, another night everything changed.

               **“Not at all, Padfoot, old friend, and will you, in turn, forgive me for believing _you_ were the spy?”**

                **“Of course,”** says Sirius and he’s grinning. It’s not the same as it used to be, but maybe nothing is. **“Shall we kill him together?”**

                This feels like something new, a new togetherness.

                **“I think so.”**

VI. December 24th 1995

                The kids and Molly have gone up to bed, though Remus certainly suspects that Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny have no intentions of sleeping for a while.  He sits in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, nursing a hot chocolate.

                Remus has been living at Sirius’s parents’ house for almost six months, grateful for the roof over his head but a little less certain about his new housemate. There has been no discussion of their relationship since their reunion eighteen months previously but they’ve fallen back into old patterns with a shocking ease.

                It always was easy to be domestic with Sirius.

                It’s not that simple, though, and much as Remus wants it to be, it won’t ever be the same. The last fifteen years have been hard on them and sometimes Remus feels that maybe there isn’t enough of their energetic youthful selves left for any of that. Sirius, especially.

                Captivity in the Black house has made Sirius more reckless than usual but it’s more than that. It’s uselessness, built up over all those years, and loss. Being here reminds Sirius of all he’s lost and all he’s given up. Remus doesn’t want this Sirius. This is the Sirius that led an unknowing foe to a potentially fatal incident. This is the Sirius that acts first and thinks about everyone else much, much later. Remus has always found it difficult to love this Sirius.

                It’s been better since Harry arrived but Remus knows better than to get his hopes up when it comes to Sirius. It’s a difficult situation- too much unresolved history for it to be nothing, too much time passed for it to be everything.

                The man in question struts into the room, cheerfully humming some jaunty Muggle Christmas song in an impressive falsetto.

                He grabs a butterbeer and falls into the seat across from Remus.

                “Evening, Moony,” he smiles. It’s a better smile than last year; Sirius’s trademark pearly whites are back, his hair washed and his skin has regained some of its old colour. He’ll never be the handsome young man he once was, but neither will Remus.

                “Evening, Sirius,” Remus replies.

                “Christmas Eve,” Sirius grins.

                Remus nods, “That it is.”

                His first Christmas with Sirius in fifteen years. They’ve even bought gifts together, like they used to.

                Sirius catches his sombre mood and a shadow flits across his face.

                “I haven’t celebrated Christmas since that last time. 1980,” he says quietly

                “What did you do last year?” Remus inquires.

                “Hid in a cave, ate rats,” Sirius shrugs in return. “All in all, maybe this place is a slight step up.”

                “I certainly hope you deem the company better than the rats,” Remus observes wryly.

                Sirius smiles sadly. “Of course.”

                Remus isn’t sure who makes the first move, but their hands meet in the middle of the table. He’s never been able to describe what physical contact with Sirius feels like. His brain is telling him it’s because so few people have ever engaged with Remus physically, due to his lycanthropy. His heart is telling him its more than that. That even now, simply holding hands with Sirius can make him feel safe and exhilarated at the same time.

                A clock chimes midnight somewhere in the house and Sirius is leaning across the table, daring Remus to meet him in the middle. It’s a chaste kiss but something inside of Remus, long frozen over, reawakens for just a second. It doesn’t mean they’re going to be Sirius and Remus again but maybe there’s some hope for them yet.

                Remus pulls away, allowing himself a slight smile. “I thought midnight kisses were a New Year’s Eve thing,” he comments.

                Sirius waves away his very important concern. “They’re an Eve thing,” he tells Remus. “Merry Christmas, Remus.”

VII. August 31st 1996

                Sirius is gone. He’s been gone for over two months but it feels as if Remus is just now realising it, sitting, as he is, in the Grimmauld Place kitchen.

                It’s Hogwarts Eve, after all.

                Tomorrow he won’t be going to Hogwarts, he’ll be joining a werewolf colony. It’s safest to do so a few days after the full moon, the werewolves will be at their most receptive. The whole thing feels like some cruel joke, a terrible déjà vu. Last time, he lost Sirius while he was in the werewolf colony but this time it seems Sirius has jumped the gun.

                He knows Molly worries about him but not as much as she would if she knew the full extent of his relationship with Sirius. It’s fine. He’s dealt with loss before, many times. Now he’s run out of people to lose.

                Amongst the Order of the Phoenix, only one person knows what Sirius was to him. Well, Dumbledore probably does, but he’s Dumbledore. Only one person has ever prised the words from him.

                And she’s here.

                Nymphadora Tonks sidles into the kitchen and wordlessly pours herself a glass of water. She’s resolutely not looking at him and Remus knows exactly why.

                He doesn’t think he’s being too harsh. She’s young, she’ll understand one day, perhaps even thank him for helping her to dodge the bullet that he is.

                She’s a good woman though. They’ve helped each other through this summer and tomorrow she’s off on assignment too. They won’t see each other for a while, maybe that will help them deal with their feelings.

                “Tonks,” he calls out before he can stop himself.

                She turns to look at him. Her usually vibrant hair is a lacklustre dark brown that Remus realises with a jolt is precisely the Black shade. He doubts she’s doing it on purpose, which would make this her natural colour. Of course it is.

                “Will you sit with me?” he asks.

                She takes a seat, obeying. “Wotcher, Remus,” she mutters quietly.

                It’s only then he realises he doesn’t actually have anything to say to her. Instead, he just says what’s on his mind.

                “Exactly twenty one years ago, I was sitting in James Potter’s treehouse with Sirius Black,” he tells her. “We were so excited to go back to Hogwarts.” He smiles at the memory, that’s new.

                She just nods and listens.

                “That night he told me there was something to be said for the anticipation of a night before but lately I haven’t had much to look forward to. I’ve never really had much to look forward to, apart from him.”

                It almost feels like an excuse, but it’s also true.

                She nods like she understands, when she can’t possibly. Her reply surprises him, however.

                “I think you’ve been grieving him for a long time, Remus. And you’ve been grieving you for longer. Maybe you need to let yourself remember, so you can look forward.”

                He looks at her then, right in her blue eyes. Tonks eyes.

                “Look forward to what?” he asks bitterly. “Tomorrow I’ll be living in a werewolf colony.”

                She shrugs. “You could have another seventy years ahead of you, Remus. That’s a pretty long time. I’m sure you’ll find something. It’s all relative, isn’t it?”

                She’s leaving but that’s the right thing. Remus has some remembering to do. He’ll sit in the memories, just for tonight, and see what tomorrow brings him.


End file.
